Protecting The Source
by TRE1
Summary: A murdered diplomat, a missing hard drive, and a suspect on the run, the Lone Gunmen are after the hottest story of their lives.


Title: Protecting The Source  
Author: TRE  
Rating: R (language and adult situations)  
Classification: X, LGM  
Spoilers: Post TINH  
Archive: Gossamer or ask  
Feedback: frohicke@swbell.net  
Website: http://www.geocities.com/trethephile/  
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately they belong to the careless folks at FOX.  
Summary: A murdered diplomat, a missing hard drive, and a suspect on the  
run. The Lone Gunmen are after the hottest story of their lives.  
  
Thanks: To Kel, who took me for my first subway ride and patiently listens  
to all the stories that never get written. Melissa, who let me steal her  
look and her name and got me drunk on my birthday. And to bugs who stayed up  
all night, across many time zones to beta for me.  
  
  
XXX  
  
Protecting The Source   
XXX   
  
April 6, 2001  
  
As Mel Kempka entered the DC Diner, the air conditioning was a welcome  
relief. Washington was going through an early heat wave and she had not  
dressed for it. Everyone in the Capital was tired of the unseasonable  
weather.  
  
Mel sat at the counter and grabbed a menu. The plastic was worn and she  
squinted behind her black-rimmed glasses to read the selections. Finally,  
pushing back a lock of dark hair, Mel gave her decision to the waitress.  
  
The waitress, snapping her nicotine gum for all she was worth, sloppily  
scribbled down Mel's order.  
  
She cupped her chin in her hand, watching the small television on a shelf in  
the corner. The twelve o'clock news was starting, another daily round of  
indictments, shootings, and traffic accidents. Mel hoped the weather would  
come on soon. She wanted to know what to wear tomorrow. This kind of heat in  
April was ridiculous.  
  
Her mild-weather daydreaming was diverted at the sound of the voice from the  
patron next to her.  
  
"Turn it up, Joan," the man called.  
  
The sample case by his feet identified him as a salesman, Mel thought idly,  
but his rumpled, off-the-rack suit suggested that he wasn't very successful.  
  
Joan obliged, giving the volume three quick jabs of her middle finger. "FBI  
Agent Arrested for Espionage," the newsflash read.  
  
  
Interested, Mel squinted at the TV and then gasped.  
  
A small picture of the agent in question was displayed next to the face of  
the anchorwoman as she continued. "We have learned that the arrest of  
Special Agent Gordon Camby, of the FBI, was directly related to his alleged  
selling of DOD secrets to an unknown foreign buyer. Our own Shane Kramer is  
on the scene with more news..."  
  
Mel stood and moved closer to the television. Her mouth opened in surprise.  
  
Shane Kramer, dressed casually, for the heat, stood outside the Hoover  
Building, microphone in hand. "Gordon Camby, a sixteen-year veteran of the  
FBI was arraigned yesterday on charges of selling secrets to a buyer, a  
buyer that remains undisclosed at this time. Camby alternately  
failed and passed a series of polygraph tests that were recently implemented  
following the shocking discovery of Robert Hanssen's alleged spy  
activities. FBI officials are still reeling from Hanssen's arrest and will  
not disclose at this time if Camby's and Hanssen's activities were linked."  
  
Speechless, she stared at the news footage of Camby being led to a black  
sedan by other FBI agents in their familiar navy and yellow windbreakers.  
  
Kramer wrapped up, "Camby's wife and children have not been available for  
comment."  
  
She was jolted back to the present as the salesman banged his fist on the  
counter. "Feds! Bunch of sorry, dirty cocksuckers." He stood and tossed down  
a handful of bills on top of his check, then he stormed out of the diner,  
still mumbling under his breath.  
  
Mel moved back to her seat, no longer interested when the anchorwoman  
finally gave over to the weatherman.  
  
Joan wasn't interested either, as she the volume back down and set Mel's  
sandwich beside her untouched coffee.  
  
Mel looked away from her lunch, no longer hungry. A jumble of thoughts and  
scenarios were racing through her brain. Gordon  
Camby was in most of them, kissing a woman, a woman who most certainly was  
not his wife.  
  
Joan appeared in her line of vision, startling her. "Everything all right?"  
the waitress asked.  
  
"Yes, fine." Mel grabbed a sweetener packet to dump in her coffee.  
  
Joan nodded and began to clean up the salesman's plate and empty cup.  
  
Mel glanced over. The salesman's newspaper was on the counter next to her  
and the headline grabbed her attention. "Octium IV Chip Invades  
Privacy." She tilted her head to the side as she slid the paper closer. It  
was a story about a computer chip, the Octium IV, that could potentially  
invade a person's privacy through their computer, taking and storing social  
security and credit card numbers. She slipped the paper into her bag.  
  
The story had interested her. The publishers appeared to present the truth  
without accusing the company of subterfuge. She liked that.  
  
Finally, she picked up the sandwich and began to eat mechanically.  
  
XXXXX  
  
"Lone Gunman."  
  
Mel was slightly taken aback. The voice seemed brusque and sarcastic, and it  
made her even more nervous.  
  
"I need to speak with one of your writers," she stammered.  
  
She was taking a huge risk. She wanted someone to applaud her courage, tell  
her she was doing the right thing, and to hold her hand. The man  
on the phone sounded jaded and not at all nice.  
  
"You're talking to him," the voice snapped. Then she heard the sound of a  
hand over the mouthpiece and some muffled noises as if someone  
was talking in the background.  
  
She almost hung up, but then continued hesitantly. "I have information. Can  
you meet me somewhere?"  
  
The man sighed. "Tell me what you've got, give me an some idea and then  
we'll meet."  
  
Mel bit her lip and she pressed her fingertip down on the page of their  
newspaper, The Lone Gunman. "Camby's been having an affair with  
my supervisor."  
  
She could hear the man sit up and take notice. "Gordon Camby from today's  
news?"  
  
"Meet me at the Landover Mall at four-fifteen, um, I'll be in front of the  
Ten Dollar Store. I'm wearing a black suit."  
  
"You're kidding." The man's voice became amused. "Never done the cloak and  
dagger routine before, have you?"  
  
"Just be there." She hung up the phone.  
  
Langly spun away from the desk, slamming down the receiver. "Did you get  
that?"  
  
"Got it." Frohike pulled of his headset. "Is this chick for real?"  
  
"Won't know until I get there." Langly began rummaging for his jacket, until  
he remembered the heat wave and tossed it in the general  
direction of the sofa.  
  
"We're going with you," Byers said as he shrugged into his suit jacket. Heat  
waves didn't upset his personal dress code.  
  
"The mall," Frohike mused as he pulled on his fingerless gloves, "teenage  
girls, navel rings, I'm there." He grabbed the keys to the van and they were  
off. Landover was not a long drive from Tacoma Park, but they were always  
suspicious enough to scope out the meeting place long before a meeting would  
happen.  
  
XXXXXX  
  
Mel waited, nervous, chewing on her thumbnail. It was a habit recently  
acquired and she despised it, but it gave her some small comfort. She  
stood awkwardly in front of the Ten Dollar Store, feeling overdressed in her  
suit and black boots. The other patrons were housewives looking for a  
bargain, and they weren't wearing Kenneth Cole.  
  
She was startled when a man with black-rimmed glasses and long blond hair  
stopped in front of her and said, "Boo!"  
  
Mel stepped back. "Excuse me?"  
  
He moved past her and entered the store. She followed.  
  
"You know who I am. Tell me what I need to know now, before I get edgy and  
leave." He appeared nonchalant, but his body was tense and  
Mel decided there was more to him than his Ramones t-shirt and ragged jeans.  
  
He chose a vacant aisle and she walked beside him.  
  
She reached for a hideous clay vase, flipping it over to inspect the price  
tag beneath. "I work for the Belgian Embassy. I have a supervisor,  
Gabrielle Minot. She's the Special Administrator for Andre Lariat, the  
ambassador."  
  
"You guys have lots of problems with Belgian nationals?" He turned his back  
to her as he inspected a fifty-piece ratchet set.  
  
"We help out the French and Luxembourg embassies, too." Mel put down the  
vase. "Gabrielle, she's been having an affair with Gordon Camby  
for almost a year."  
  
Langly moved down the aisle and pushed at some faux silk flowers with his  
sneaker. "How do you know this?"  
  
Mel stepped after him. "I'm her assistant. I know all her business, even the  
parts she tries to keep secret. I didn't like her affair, but it was none of  
my business. "  
  
"And now?"  
  
He almost knocked over a display of sunflowers, quickly righting it.  
  
"Now I know that her lover is a spy and a traitor."  
  
"And you're a patriot," he said cynically. "Tell you what. Continue to  
observe, and I'll get back to you in a few days. Maybe when you have  
something more than speculation."  
  
Mel shook her head.  
  
"You don't understand. This morning she asked me to book her a flight to New  
York, and the next day she's flying to Paris."  
  
"So what?" Langly asked impatiently. "And you never really told me how you  
knew about the affair."  
  
"I saw them, okay?" Mel turned to face him. "I followed her on my lunch hour  
one day and she met with him. They have an apartment near  
Dupont Circle. They meet there at least twice a week."  
  
"Nooners," Langly snorted.  
  
"And now she's leaving the country and I'm sure she won't be back," Mel  
said.  
  
"She's a diplomat," Langly said. "This can't be the first time she's gone  
abroad." Langly steered her out of the store and into the main area of the  
mall. They walked past Waldenbooks and Footlocker.  
  
"She hasn't left the country in the four years I've worked for her," Mel  
said.  
  
Langly stopped her in front of the fountain. "I can't use an eyewitness  
account. I need proof. Do you have anything like that? Photos, videotape,  
anything?"  
  
"No," Mel replied. A short man came to stand near the blond man, as did a  
man in a dark suit. She watched them nervously.  
  
"We need physical proof, and if she's leaving the country, we're not going  
to get it."  
  
"There is a way," Mel said. "I have the key to their apartment."  
  
Her contact finally smiled. "I'm Langly." Indicating to the suited man, he  
said, "This is Byers." He jerked his thumb at the shorter man, who nodded.  
"And this ugly mug is Frohike. "We are the writers and publishers of The  
Lone Gunmen."  
  
Mel tried to smile. They were a ludicrous group.  
  
XXX  
  
They had agreed to meet at nine o'clock. The night was dark and humid, a  
thunderstorm was building in the west, and Mel was more keyed  
up than ever. She had a tendency to react to weather and this had been the  
weirdest year ever. Just last month they'd had an unbelievable  
snowstorm, the largest in years.  
  
She'd changed out of her suit into more comfortable but equally dark  
clothes. She was forever annoyed with the way she looked, especially  
having to work with a beautiful woman like Gabrielle. Mel hated makeup and  
wasn't fond of standing in front of a mirror for longer than it took to  
brush her teeth and comb her short black hair. Gabrielle was the ultimate  
sophisticate, with a model's looks and an incredible flair for fashion.  
  
A noise startled her, and she looked up and down the street, but no one was  
there. She sighed in annoyance and looked at her watch again.  
  
"You're being obvious." Langly's voice was right in her ear and she jumped.  
  
"Dammit," she cried, whirling to face him. He was wearing a headset, of all  
things. He looked like a telemarketer.  
  
His smile disappeared and he handed her a pair of latex gloves. "Let's go."  
  
Minot's apartment was in the rear of the two-story building. It had been  
chosen for privacy and it showed; a nice selection of shrubbery hid the door  
from view.  
  
Mel fitted the key into the lock with trembling hands. She'd lured the  
Newspapermen to the apartment under false pretenses and if her suspicions  
proved correct, she'd have to contact the police before Gabrielle left New  
York. Mel just hoped they would find something, anything, to lay her fears  
to rest. She truly did not want to find that Gabrielle was involved with  
Camby for more than an affair.  
  
"You're sure you can get into her computer?" Mel whispered as they entered  
the darkened apartment. Neither of them reached for the lights, but Langly  
turned on the flashlight he'd brought.  
  
"You'll see."  
  
She led the way, the apartment's interior eerie in the slicing beam from the  
Maglite. The furniture was expensive and chosen for its clean lines and  
simple colors. Only when they entered the bedroom and the tile gave way to  
thick lavender carpeting did the furnishings get dark and bulky. An  
expensive gold and purple silk comforter lay across the large bed.  
  
"Hmmm, understated," Langly replied. His voice was loud in the stillness.  
  
An armoire stood against one wall. Mel crossed and opened the doors, and it  
quickly transformed into a hidden computer desk.  
  
He dragged a chair over to the console and assessed the system, noting the  
processor was probably a Pentium II. He spotted the removable IDE drive and  
booted up the computer, his latex-covered fingers tapping impatiently at the  
keyboard. "Byers, you there? I'm gonna start 'er up."  
  
"I'm here," Byers voice came over the headset.  
  
As Mel watched, the computer whined as it began to boot up. "How will you  
get past her password?" she asked, as the cursor appeared and  
blinked lazily on the blinding screen, the username "Minot" waiting for its  
password.  
  
"This is Windows," Langly remarked and hit the enter key with a snap of his  
pinky.  
  
The computer began to start Windows 98 and Mel was surprised. "You didn't  
need it?"  
  
"No," he replied. "Byers, I may not even need you. I'm going online. Minot's  
password is already stored, can you believe this?"  
  
Byers's small laugh was heard somewhere in the background of the headset.  
Frohike's voice sounded, "Like candy from a baby."  
  
"I'm in," Langly replied and he began searching through Gabrielle's email.  
He was more than a bit disappointed that he wasn't getting to show off his  
hacking skills in front of Mel.  
  
"Shit, there's only one thing on here." He leaned toward the monitor. "It's  
an encrypted file. I'm gonna move it to the disc."  
  
He pulled out a CD-ROM disc and set it inside the tray. It disappeared  
inside the CPU and a soft whirring sound was issued. Mel began to chew her  
thumbnail again.  
  
Langly turned to Mel. "I thought you said they had correspondence, like love  
letters."  
  
"I said she had a computer and there may be something from him there." Mel  
nodded at the computer. "How long will this take?"  
  
Langly waved his hand and leaned the straight-back chair on two legs. "Not  
long. Why don't you tell me why you want to screw your boss  
over?"  
  
"Are you talking to your friends? Where are they?" She answered his question  
with a question and paced nervously around the room, inspecting a bold  
painting above the bed.  
  
"You're not answering me." Langly almost fell over in the chair and quickly  
straightened. The computer made a soft noise and the download was  
complete.  
  
"Take the disc," he said to Mel, handing her a CD case. She flipped it over  
and read the cover. "Radiohead," she murmured, and picked up the disc  
delicately with her gloved fingers. She closed the case.  
  
"Let me see if I can find some recently deleted files." Langly switched to  
MS-DOS and began doing search after search. Mel watched him,  
fascinated by his rapid keystrokes and intense concentration.  
  
"You're not just some rag newspaper reporter," she observed, coming around  
the armoire to face him. She could only see the reflection of the monitor in  
his glasses.  
  
"No, I'm not, I'm--" Static burst through his headset, and Frohike was  
yelling, "We got company! Get out of there!"  
  
Langly instantly began shutting down programs. "How long?"  
  
"No time! No time! Ask girlie there if our target is tall, blonde, and  
drop-dead gorgeous." Frohike was excited, and Langly could hear him moving  
around in the van.  
  
Langly shut down the computer and depressed the power button on the monitor.  
"Get us out of here! Where is she?"  
  
Mel stepped forward, grasping the CD case. "What's going on?"  
  
"Too late, hide! Pronto!" Frohike yelled into the headset.  
  
Langly stood quickly and assessed the room, swinging the chair back into its  
original position. He looked frantically for a hiding place. "Here." He  
opened the closet, with narrow wooden slatted doors, burrowed himself into  
the clothes, and beckoned Mel to step in with him.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked again, standing her ground. Langly heard the  
key in the lock and reached for her wrist.  
  
"Come here," he called softly. Mel heard the front door open and allowed  
herself to be yanked into the closet.  
  
"Radio silence," Langly whispered urgently into the mike, swinging the  
wooden door closed just as Gabrielle entered the bedroom.  
  
She did not turn the lights on, leaving the room in darkness except for the  
soft light filtered from outside. Langly could see through the slats as  
Gabrielle crossed the room lazily, kicking off her heels and unbuttoning her  
blouse.  
  
Gabrielle stepped out of the room for a minute and Langly took a moment to  
breathe. Mel was pressed awkwardly against his chest. She squirmed slightly  
and he pressed his hand against her hip, stilling her instantly.  
  
Minot walked back into the room. She had shed her clothing except for her  
lacy underwear, which she began to remove. He couldn't tear his eyes away,  
especially as he could feel Mel's breath against his throat. He jumped when  
three loud knocks sounded on the front door. Gabrielle  
laughed softly and slipped her heels back on, leaving the room in only her  
panties and shoes.  
  
Langly and Mel froze even more as Gabrielle greeted a man and they came into  
the bedroom together. "You're late, Pike," she murmured, striding over to  
turn on a small lamp. The lamp created more shadows, giving Langly an uneven  
view.  
  
"Yeah, looks like you started without me," the man replied, catching  
Gabrielle around the waist and sliding his hand into the back of her  
panties. He was dressed all in black with a worn leather jacket. In the low  
light, Langly couldn't make out his features, but he had long tangled brown  
hair that Gabrielle's small hands pushed aside as they met in a long wet  
kiss.  
  
Pike's hand crept lower into Gabrielle's panties and she gasped into his  
mouth. "You have started without me," he said against her neck.  
  
Her hands were busy unfastening his pants. Gabrielle continued to kiss him.  
Then her mouth fell lower and she pressed her sharp teeth into the soft  
flesh of his neck. "Enough," he said, pushing her against the wall next to  
the closet, but out of view. There was the sound of ripping fabric and then  
a sharp thud as Gabrielle's body was lifted and pushed into the wall.  
  
They made no sound, Langly noted, but the Sheetrock and joints in the wall  
told their own story. Her body was thumped harder and harder against the  
wall.  
  
"What's going on?" Frohike's voice was suddenly loud in the silence and  
Langly had to take care not to jump. "Is that what I think it is?" Then  
Byers' voice: "Shut up, Frohike, radio silence," and the headset was quiet  
once again.  
  
Mel, so close to Langly, could hear the exchange and she pressed her  
fingertips against Langly's belly. It was almost his undoing. His breath  
quickened, and he fought to control it, biting his lip. Mel, sensing his  
discomfort, moved her hands away. His breathing slowed and they waited,  
listening.  
  
"Yes." Garbrielle's voice was shuddery. "Yes, Pike."  
  
"There, yeah," he panted and finally their bodies stilled.  
  
"Do something about your hair." She left the room. Pike appeared again in  
Langly's vision. Sweeping his hand over his head and taking his hair with  
it, he tossed the wig onto the bed and switched off the lamp. Langly still  
couldn't see his face as Pike turned away, but he could see his  
hand remove a gun from the pocket of his jacket.  
  
With a strange awkwardness, Pike pressed the gun into his other hand. He  
removed a silencer from his pocket and forced it into nozzle  
of the Glock, turning away as he fastened the screws. As Gabrielle came into  
the room, the hand disappeared behind his back and Langly noted the odd way  
the hand seemed to dangle, as lifeless as the gun itself. A nagging thought  
scratched at his brain but was dismissed as Gabrielle approached Pike for  
another kiss.  
  
She had dressed in a silky kimono that hung open, revealing her perfect,  
naked body. Pike accepted the kiss roughly before raising his hand and  
turning Gabrielle away from him and shoving her down on the bed. "Wha," she  
began, as Pike raised his leg and pressed his knee into the  
back of her thigh.  
  
"Don't think I like doing this," Pike's said gruffly as he switched the  
Glock to his real hand. "We all know the risks, in this business."  
  
"Dammit, Pike! Let me go." Gabrielle's body began to squirm beneath him and  
he stood swiftly.  
  
Langly watched the nightmare unfold in the shadows as Pike fired two shots  
into the back of Gabrielle's head. Instantly, her body lost its fight and  
she lay limp across the bed. Pike pulled her kimono back down over the back  
of her legs and stroked her hair where it wasn't covered in thick, spreading  
blood. "You were a good fuck, Minot." He turned away.  
  
Langly tried not to panic. Mel was frozen next to him, her short nails  
digging into his t-shirt. Frohike broke the radio silence, muttering, "Holy  
shit, holy shit," over and over. They must have heard the soft darting sound  
of the silencer as clearly as he had.  
  
Pike was thorough. He swiftly pulled on a black leather glove and put away  
the gun and silencer. He turned his attention for the first time to the  
armoire, opening it to display the computer.  
  
Scared to death now that Pike was after the same files that they had just  
moved, Langly's body became as stiff as a board. Mel noticed the change and  
remained as motionless as he was.  
  
Pike knew better than to take time searching for the files. He pulled out a  
key and slipped it into the lock on the IDE drive. The lock gave way  
and the drive popped out slightly. Pike slid it all the way out and pressed  
it between his body and prosthetic arm. He put the key away and retrieved a  
pair of wire cutters, efficiently clipping the wires at the back of the CPU,  
further disabling the computer.  
  
He stood and turned close to the window. Langly finally saw his face in the  
soft light. His profile was outlined by the light streaming through the  
window. He might be called Pike this night, but Langly knew him as Alex  
Krycek.  
  
XXX  
  
The van skidded to a stop next to them on the dark street. Langly wiped at  
the sweat on his face and threw open the door, shoving Mel into the dark  
interior and following her up. "Go, go," he shouted. Frohike hit the gas and  
they roared off into the night.  
  
"This is insane," Mel screamed. Her latex gloves were slick with dark red  
blood. She had insisted on trying to find a pulse before leaving Gabrielle's  
body alone in the dark apartment. "We have to call the police."  
  
"No, we don't," Frohike said, his voice firm. "We need to get our shit  
straight, first. You and blondie were breaking and entering, and that guy  
was a professional."  
  
Langly wanted to throw up. He sat up, snatched off the headset, and threw it  
against the back of the van. "He was a professional. It was Alex Krycek."  
  
The van swerved and Frohike righted his driving. "Are you sure?"  
  
Langly searched the floor of the van and found a towel, which he  
tossed to Mel, who was staring at her hands in shock. "I didn't get a good  
look at him until he took out the IDE, but I finally saw his face." Langly  
slipped off the latex gloves and pushed them into a plastic bag with his  
own. "And he only had one arm." He took the towel and rubbed the remaining  
blood off her hands himself.  
  
"He fucked her against a wall with only one arm," Frohike observed, finally  
slowing the van and taking a left at the light.  
  
"Yeah, pretty good, huh?" Langly leaned forward and pulled Mel against him.  
She was making a strange keening sound and he was afraid she  
really was in shock.  
  
"Unbelievable," Frohike muttered.  
  
Byers, who was still back at the offices of The Lone Gunman, suddenly came  
over Frohike's headset. "What was on that encrypted file?" His voice sounded  
high pitched and as panicky as the rest of them felt. "Because surely he  
killed her over it."  
  
"Dunno," Frohike stated, "but it looks like Minot wasn't just sleeping with  
Camby."  
  
"Duh," Langly snapped.  
  
Mel finally shook her head and scooted away from Langly. "I put it together  
that she was Camby's go-between. The middleman between him and his buyer."  
  
Langly asked, "So you didn't just think they were having nooners?"  
  
"No," she replied. "But the only proof I had was of the affair. I needed to  
get into her computer."  
  
Langly nodded. "You're sharper than you look. We assumed she was his  
middleman from the very beginning of your story."  
  
Mel tossed Langly a sour look before turning to look out the windshield at  
the darkened buildings they passed. She shivered. "I want to go home." She  
didn't want to be here with these strange men.  
  
"We gotta see what's on this disc," Frohike insisted. "Where is it?"  
  
Langly exchanged a glance with Mel. She raised her hips off the floor and  
stuck her hand down the front of her pants, sliding out the Radiohead CD  
case. She tossed it to Langly and looked away.  
  
"Frohike does that," he observed dryly as he handed the disc forward to  
Frohike.  
  
"I didn't really want it to be her, but I had to know if she was helping  
Camby," Mel said softly as she lifted her hands to scrub at the leftover  
dried flakes of Minot's blood.  
  
Langly hefted himself up and moved into the front seat. He turned to Frohike  
and said, "If we can break the encryption, we will have hard evidence. We  
can run that story naming the middleman and the buyer too."  
  
"Krycek wasn't the ultimate buyer," Frohike replied. "He's got a real buyer  
somewhere, overseas. Remember, Mulder said he turned up in  
Hong Kong."  
  
"I remember," Byers said. "Mulder said he was selling the location of that  
downed UFO."  
  
"Mulder can be so full of shit sometimes," Langly sniffed.  
  
Mel called from the back, "Look, you have the disc. I want to go home."  
  
Frohike nodded. "We're almost there. Then Langly can take you home."  
  
Mel sat back, feeling dejected.  
  
XXX  
  
"You mentioned that Pike's real name is Alex Krycek. Does that mean you know  
him?"  
  
Mel was curled up on the passenger side of the van and Langly was driving he  
r home. It was well after midnight and the traffic was light. She watched in  
sleepy silence as the overhead street lights bounced off the windshield.  
  
Langly waited a beat before replying, "We have a friend who has tangled a  
few times with Krycek. That's how I recognized him."  
  
"I can't believe she's dead," Mel whispered, covering her face with shaking  
hands.  
  
"You can't think like that," Langly stated. "If she was selling Camby's  
information, then she was as much a traitor as he is, and you were right to  
let someone know about it."  
  
"Now you're holding my hand," she said softly, thinking of their first phone  
conversation. It seemed like it was days ago.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Mel lowered her hands, freshly scrubbed in the untidy bathroom at  
The Lone Gunmen's office. She had a sneaking suspicion that they all lived  
in that warehouse together. "I suppose you'll be picked up by the AP, once  
you expose Gabrielle's involvement."  
  
"I hope so. And I hope we bought some time by not calling the police," he  
remarked. "Is this your street?"  
  
Mel glanced out the window. "Yes, third house down."  
  
The street was full of small older homes. The neighborhood wasn't the  
safest, but the house had been her mother's until her death last year.  
  
Langly pulled to the side of the road and watched the house. It was dark and  
the whole street was silent.  
  
Mel gathered her purse. "I suppose this is it then," she said.  
  
Langly did not turn to face her, he was distracted by a strange feeling.  
"Yeah." He finally said, "Take care." Mel made a face and opened the door.  
  
As she crossed in front of the van, Langly suddenly rolled down the window,  
stuck his head out, and called, "Mel!"  
  
"Yeah?" She paused.  
  
"How did you get a key to that apartment, anyway?"  
  
She turned to face him. "It was sent to me when the locks were changed.  
Gabrielle had put the lease in my name."  
  
Langly was silent for a long moment. "Did she know that you knew?"  
  
"I don't think she cared. She walked all over me at work." Mel turned away  
toward the house. "I was never considered a threat."  
  
She made it as far as the first step on the porch, annoyed by leaves that  
had collected there. Langly rushed up behind her and grasped her  
arm. "Don't go in there," he said urgently, pulling her hand, forcing her to  
step off the porch.  
  
"Why, dammit, Langly, let me go!" She pushed at him, but he was stronger. He  
dragged her across the yard and back to the van, talking  
nonsense all the while about conspiracies and how much danger she was in.  
  
"Will you please let me go!"  
  
"I can't. If Minot didn't consider you a threat, that doesn't mean Krycek  
won't!" He was shouting now, but he released her hand. "Krycek is not the  
kind of guy to leave loose ends."  
  
"Jesus," she shouted, "I'm not a loose end! You are so paranoi--" Her words  
were cut off as Langly tackled her to the ground, just as the night rocked  
with an explosion.  
  
Fire and smoke leapt into the air as her house blew apart. She waited until  
the ground stopped shaking before she pushed off the debris and  
pulled away from Langly to stand incredulous at the sight of her home,  
completely wracked by flames. "No," she shrieked and lunged for the house.  
  
"No, Mel, " Langly shouted, scrambling up and racing for her. He wrapped an  
arm around her waist and pulled her kicking and crying back  
towards the street.  
  
"No," she cried turning into his shoulder, hitting his chest, "no, all my  
things!"  
  
"It's okay," Langly soothed, but he was worried. This was Krycek's work and  
the killer would want to confirm Mel was dead.  
  
He grabbed her and pulled her around to the front of the van. People were  
coming out of their homes, staring and pointing at the ruins. Langly could  
hear sirens in the background. "We have to leave, Mel."  
  
"No, no, no." She was still fighting him and she didn't want to get in the  
van.  
  
"We have to leave NOW," he shouted. With a great shove he pushed her up into  
the van and hurled himself in behind her, his hand already wrapped around  
the keys in the ignition. The van's engine roared to life and it shot down  
the street past surprised neighbors, disappearing  
into the night.  
  
To say that Langly could handle a woman was a stretch; to say that he could  
handle a hysterical one was driving right off a cliff.  
  
Mel was losing it quickly. Her shoulders were shaking and she couldn't seem  
to get a hold of herself. A quick pay phone call to the office and  
he was sternly advised to get Mel under control. That did not include  
bringing her back to the office. And no, they hadn't broken the code on the  
disc.  
  
XXX  
  
Mel watched in silent exhaustion as Langly unlocked the door. To get inside  
they had to step over a small pile of brochures with pizza and  
cleaning advertisements.  
  
"Come here often?" she wisecracked, but her voice was flat.  
  
Langly shut and double-locked the door. "I'm always bringing chicks here."  
  
"Here" consisted of an economy-sized apartment, with a kitchen and bath. An  
unmade futon took up most of the main room. There was a space  
where a computer used to sit on a desk amidst a pile of computer language  
books and empty software boxes. Other vacant spaces showed  
where things were missing as well, a television, stereo, and posters. A fine  
layer of dust seemed to cover everything. It was as though the owner had  
moved things, one piece at a time.  
  
"See if there is anything in the fridge. I'll make up the bed with clean  
sheets." Langly headed into the bathroom.  
  
Mel moved into the small kitchen. There was nothing in the refrigerator  
except a box of baking soda, what could have been celery at one time, and  
four bottles of beer. She closed the door and nudged open the cabinets,  
finding only a half-empty bottle of George Dickel, some mix-matched plates,  
and quite a collection of oversized plastic convenience store cups. Another  
cabinet revealed a bag of chocolate chips and some unappetizing can goods.  
  
They had fled the fire, driving aimlessly down deserted streets until Langly  
pulled over at a payphone where he called his friends. When he came back to  
the van, he said he was taking her to his home.  
  
She stepped around the wall. Langly was busy tossing sheets over the bed.  
Mel leaned her hip against the desk and toed a pile of old newspapers, and  
they slid aside to reveal a worn issue of Hustler. She quickly moved away.  
"Can I take a shower?"  
  
"Yeah," Langly mumbled and turned away to sort through some clothes on a  
bookshelf that contained row after row of CD-ROM cases.  
  
"Here." He tossed her a worn t-shirt.  
  
Mel quickly crossed the room to the bath. It was small and cramped, but the  
hot water worked. Her body was sore and her clothes were stained  
with blood and smoke from the fire. She washed the stench of the smoke from  
her hair. As the water beat into her scalp she began to sob in great heaving  
gasps.  
  
When she finally emerged, feeling ridiculous in a worn Pablo Honey Radiohead  
t-shirt, she spotted Langly lying across the makeshift bed in the darkened  
room. He did not look at her, only got up and headed for the bathroom.  
  
When he appeared sometime later, she was still standing in the room. She  
felt lost, disoriented. "You okay?" he asked, crawling onto the futon.  
  
"No," she whispered, and she sat next to him on the bed. Amazing how strange  
her life had become in only a few hours. "What am I going to do? I have no  
job, no home."  
  
Langly sat up so that the light from the blinds bounced off his glasses. He  
pressed the palm of his hand between her shoulder blades. "You were only  
trying to do the right thing, Mel. You're gonna make it through this. We  
will help you."  
  
Mel pulled away from his hand and lay down. "I thought you were supposed to  
be paranoid."  
  
Langly smiled in the darkness. "Didn't I tell you? I'm an optimist."  
  
After a moment, she sighed and finally lay down, "What's your name?"  
  
"Langly," then realizing what she meant, he replied, "Ringo, er, Richard."  
  
"Richard." She whispered.  
  
Langly removed his glasses and reached over to set them on the desk.  
  
"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"  
  
She was surprised by the question. She hadn't been thinking and now she  
realized she was lying in bed with a man she hardly knew. "No. "  
It would be ridiculous to boot him out of his own bed.  
  
"Just checking, " he said.  
  
The thunderstorm that had threatened all night finally broke, crashing  
thunder and slapping rain against the exterior of the building. They lay  
awake in the darkness for a long time, not touching, not moving, listening  
to the fury of the rain.  
  
Mel made an effort not to think about her destroyed home, but rather the man  
next to her. She'd put them both in danger. He had gotten them  
out alive, but she still felt guilty. She started to thank him, but she  
heard a soft snore and decided it could wait until morning.  
  
When she awoke, she could smell him all around her and it made her rise up  
in surprise. She looked around frantically, trying to get her bearings. The  
events of the night before came back in a rush and a strangled sound escaped  
her throat. At the moment she realized Langly was gone, Mel heard a key in  
the lock. She bolted up and rushed to the bathroom. Paranoia, she thought  
without amusement, peeking out from behind the bathroom door.  
  
"It's me," Langly called out as he entered the apartment. The scent of food  
hit her and she was suddenly ravenous.  
  
Over a breakfast of take-out coffee and cinnamon rolls, they discussed or  
rather Langly talked about, what their next move should be.  
  
Langly dressed quickly in the other room. When he came out, Mel was standing  
in the center of the room, dressed but for her blouse. Her skin glowed white  
next to the black silk of her bra. He gulped. She was holding the ruined  
remains of her blouse.  
  
"I can't wear this."  
  
He rooted through his closet, finally giving her his only white dress shirt.  
It was large, but it was more appropriate than one of his t-shirts.  
  
When they left his apartment, Langly stopped for gas and used the payphone  
again to call Frohike. "You better get back here, pronto," Frohike said.  
"Someone recognized her. Mel's all over the news and the media's saying she  
popped Minot."  
  
"Dammit." When he glanced over at Mel, who was sitting patiently in the car,  
he noticed that the most recognizable thing about her was her  
glasses. "We're on our way." He hung up and crossed to the van.  
  
"We have a problem," he stated as he started the engine. "You need to ditch  
those glasses."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"In fact, I'm betting you don't even need them, except to read." He steered  
the car toward the highway.  
  
"You're not answering my question." She pulled off her glasses and put them  
away in her purse.  
  
"Media's already got wind of your activities last night. In fact, they think  
you're the one who put cherry pie all over Minot's bedspread."  
  
Langly was not pleased by this latest turn of events. They had hoped to have  
a little more time to break the encryption and contact the police. Harboring  
a fugitive, even an innocent one, was not his idea of a good time.  
  
"Oh God," She huddled in the seat and ducked her head down.  
  
"Frohike says your face is all over the news, wanted woman and all that." He  
sped the van up as they hit the expressway. "I would put money  
down that Krycek knows you're alive, and he's the one who gave your ID."  
  
Mel didn't say anything and Langly glanced at her with concern. It wasn't as  
though she was used to this kind of running around. He was worried about how  
much she could take. She'd already offered him the use of her cellular  
phone. He refused to use it for obvious reasons. Everyone  
knows you don't use a cell phone when the shit is hitting the fan.  
  
He reached over and clumsily patted her arm. "It'll be okay. I told you we  
take care of stuff like this all the time." Yeah right, he thought.  
  
XXX  
  
Fox Mulder was not having the time of his life. He hated medical leave more  
than any other part of his job, except for audits.  
  
Usually, medical leave meant staying at home, which he was loath to do.  
  
This time, he had an open invitation at Scully's. And that was much more  
fun. It's not everyday a man comes back from the dead. Scully  
was full of soft, unexpected caresses and patient smiles. He still wasn't  
sure if it was him or the pregnancy, but he wasn't about to ask.  
  
When Scully was summoned for an urgent meeting with Skinner very early that  
morning, he was full of questions as she dressed for work. "What  
do you think it's about?"  
  
"I told you, Mulder, I don't know." She pulled on a plus-sized white blouse  
over her black maternity pants. These days it seemed as if all her clothes  
were about to burst their seams.  
  
"You think it has anything to do with that murder last night?" He rolled  
over on her blue striped sheets, wearing only his boxers. "That  
woman from the embassy? I bet she had diplomatic immunity. You know how much  
Skinner hates that."  
  
Mulder continued, "Do you think it's about Camby? All these years they've  
been hauling our asses in front of OPR, they could have been  
looking for spies."  
  
"Uh huh." Scully was distracted, putting on her little pearl earrings. She  
had to go through this question and answer routine everyday, but it  
was worth it to have Mulder back.  
  
"Remember that Japanese guy, the one I took down in Allentown? He was pissed  
then."  
  
Mulder knew she was in a hurry, but he would have been glad of a little  
conversation. And it was Saturday. Scully breezed over and kissed his  
forehead. "Don't forget to buy cereal," she whispered and left the room.  
  
Mulder followed her to the door. "How can I? You ate three bowls before bed  
last night," he yelled out before she closed the door. Fruity  
Pebbles had been calling her name all week.  
  
Medical leave gave him time to think, to get itchy, to want to dig. Was it  
any wonder she would come home and find him leafing through old  
X-Files and tabloid newspapers?  
  
He decided to be lazy and watched America's Castles. Halfway through his  
morning routine of flipping stations, he stopped at The Weather Channel. The  
temperature was climbing, expected to break records. The phone rang.  
  
"Mulder, it's me," Scully told him. "I'm heading for Quantico, Mulder.  
Skinner asked me to do an autopsy on Gabrielle Minor, the woman found  
murdered last night."  
  
"The Belgian woman who was shot by a burglar," Mulder remembered. "I guess  
the embassy is screaming for answers." He stood, stretched, and scratched  
low on his belly.  
  
"So the police throw it in our lap," Scully agreed. "But it's no ordinary  
burglary. No sign of forced entry, and the only thing missing was the hard  
drive from her computer."  
  
"He yanked out her hard drive?" he asked. "That would be hard to do." He  
took the cordless phone into the dining room, where he'd left the  
newspaper lying on the table.  
  
"Not really, she had one of those slide-out ones." He could hear the  
background noise from the car. Was she listening to The Clash?  
"Either way, the cables on the back of the computer were cut, rendering it  
pretty much useless. Agent Doggett is checking on that end."  
  
"Hmmm," Mulder said, sitting at Scully's dining room table and leafing  
through the Post. There was a small blurb about the murder and a  
picture of the suspect, a young woman with black hair and glasses. "What  
about the suspect?"  
  
"It's strange, Mulder. I examined the body in situ and I don't think a woman  
killed her, at least not a woman the size of Melanie Kempka."  
  
"You think she had help?" Mulder rested his heel on the edge of his chair  
and picked some lint from between his toes. Maybe he should take  
a shower and put on some clothes.  
  
"I'm not sure. Look, I'll call you later and don't forget the cereal." She  
clicked off the phone.  
  
When he got home from the store and discovered that he had indeed forgotten  
to get cereal, he shrugged it off. There were plenty of  
hours in the day. His newest cell phone rang.  
  
"Mulder," he answered, putting away a gallon of milk.  
  
"Where were you?" It was Scully and he could tell she was driving  
again.  
  
He didn't want to mention the store. "How was the autopsy?" He balled up the  
plastic bags and stuck them behind her crockpot under the  
cabinet. Scully always chose paper over plastic and she'd be all over him if  
she saw a pile of plastic bags in the garbage.  
  
"I discovered some interesting evidence. Hair and fiber is running the  
analysis now," she sighed into the phone.  
  
Mulder bet her back was bothering her. She couldn't do autopsies as easily  
with the pregnancy.  
  
"Mulder, did you go to the store?" she demanded with a trace of a whine.  
  
"Not yet," he said, looking for a place to put the orange juice. Scully had  
a fully stocked refrigerator now that they were both off field duty.  
"What kind of evidence?"  
  
"Hair. I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way back to the office. Kersh  
is putting the heat on Skinner to assemble a task force."  
  
"Kersh," Mulder snorted. "How's Doggett doing on his end?"  
  
"I'm meeting with him in an hour. Look, I may be home late." Scully sounded  
tired already.  
  
Mulder smiled into the phone and shut the refrigerator door with his foot.  
"Want a backrub when you get home?"  
  
"Ah, that sounds very nice. I'll call you later when I hear about those  
fibers."  
  
Mulder thumbed off the phone and looked around Scully's immaculate kitchen.  
He really should get that cereal.  
  
XXX  
  
The Lone Gunmen were getting nowhere breaking into the files. Mel, her  
glasses back on, was chewing her thumbnail again and looking  
nervous. The guys were putting on a heck of a show, something like Penn and  
Teller Meet the Flying Karamazov Brothers. They criticized and backbit their  
way through the morning, tossing ideas off each other and hoping something  
would come out of it.  
  
Mel spent a lot of time flipping the television remote, watching for the  
newscasts. Shane Kramer, the newsman she'd watched yesterday,  
noted the suspicious nature of the fire and speculated that Mel had tried to  
fake her own death.  
  
She tuned back into the guys. They were talking about calling someone named  
Kimmy to help break the code. "No," she said loudly,  
startling them. It was as though they'd forgotten her presence. "No," she  
said loudly, startling them, "I'm not..."  
  
"It's not for you to say--" Langly began, but Mel lunged up at him.  
  
"Look what's happened here! Gabrielle is dead, my house is gone, and I'm  
wanted for murder! That disc is my life! How dare you tell me  
it's not for me to say!" Mel shrieked, jabbing her finger at each man.  
  
"Hey, sweets," Frohike began, but he was interrupted by a loud pounding on  
the door.  
  
All of them shut up instantly, looking around like startled rodents. Frohike  
moved to the door and uttered a noncommittal, "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Mulder, open up," the friendly voice shouted from behind the thick  
metal door.  
  
"Shit," Langly mumbled and he grabbed Mel by the wrist, pulling her to the  
rear of the office.  
  
"Who is it?" she hissed trying to dislodge his grip. "Is it that guy you  
were talking about last night?"  
  
Langly pushed her into one of the other rooms, the one he liked to crash in  
because of the couch. "Trust me, you don't want this guy involved."  
  
He closed the door behind him, effectively cutting off her questions, and  
entered the fray.  
  
Mulder was looking from one crafty face to another. He was angry and trying  
not to let it show. Scully had described the van and while she  
had not put the two together he had known instantly that the Gunmen were  
involved. Their risky behavior was typical and it wasn't the only reason he  
was upset. Scully had given him other news.  
  
"So, how are things?" He asked casually and ran a finger along the edge of a  
metal table giving Frohike the eye.  
  
Frohike didn't budge an inch. "We're kind of busy right now. Did you need  
something?"  
  
Mulder smiled lazily. "You know, maybe I just came to hang out."  
  
Byers stood stiffly beside Frohike. "Then by all means, hang." He gestured  
with his hand and turned back to his PC, but he did not type.  
  
The phone rang, distracting them all, and Langly picked up while Frohike  
flipped the switch to record the call. Mulder just stood to the side,  
leaning on the stainless steel table and watching Byers carefully. "Scully  
had some interesting news for me today," he said.  
  
Byers did not take the bait. He moved away, pretending to look for a  
something in the maze of electrical junk they had shelved all around them.  
  
Frohike watched Mulder watch Byers. "So, what did she find?" he questioned,  
lured by anything Scully related.  
  
"Oh, well, Skinner's got her working this case-" He moved forward, his  
attention now focused on Frohike. "The dead Belgian. There was an  
eyewitness when the suspect fled the crime scene. We got a pretty good  
description of the vehicle the perp was driving, or not driving, so to  
speak. Just wanted to make sure you boys were all okay." While Mulder  
talked, they could hear Langly still trying, unsuccessfully, to get off the  
phone.  
  
"Really," Frohike asked, sounding bored. He was installing a new video card  
with a great show of concentration and interest. "I saw some of that on the  
news, didn't know about a witness."  
  
"Oh, yeah, some old lady peeping out her window." Mulder's voice trailed off  
as he noticed a movement among the Gunmen's racks of electronic gizmos. He  
looked to Byers, trying to catch his eye, but the man was suddenly  
fascinated by his keyboard.  
  
"Scully said the perp stole a hard drive out of the Belgian's computer...."  
Mulder walked over to the maze of shelving, trying to look  
casual. "Uh, yeah, hard drive was missing... cables were cut...."  
  
Mulder was picking up the pace, moving purposefully down the aisle.  
  
"Mulder!" Frohike called. "Have you seen these nude shots of Lucy Lawless?"  
  
"Hold it! Stop right there! Freeze, FBI!"  
  
Mulder grabbed at his SIG with one hand, pushing aside loops of black  
electrical cable with the other, as he tried to negotiate the cluttered  
aisle. The Lone Gunmen were chasing him, running toward the back of the  
warehouse, tripping over and pushing aside equipment to reach  
Mulder.  
  
When he slammed into the other room, his shouts were enough to terrify Mel.  
He shoved her into the wall and raised his SIG against her head. She barely  
noticed that he had his forearm up against her throat.  
  
"Goddammit, Mulder," Frohike yelled. He and Byers were inches from his back,  
but they didn't want to risk pulling him off with his gun ready to fire.  
  
"Tell me it was him," Mulder said between clenched teeth, "tell me!" A vein  
was throbbing in his temple.  
  
"Leave her alone!" Langly shouted, "She's our source."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mel whispered to Mulder, her blue  
eyes wide with fear.  
  
"If you were with him, then you know him. Tell me where that rat bastard  
is." His pushed the muzzle of the gun harder into her temple. "I know you  
were with him last night!"  
  
"Mulder, stop." Langly grabbed at the arm into Mel's throat. "This is crazy.  
She doesn't know anything!"  
  
Mulder pushed away, pointing the SIG in the direction of the both Mel and  
the Gunmen. He was breathing hard. "That son of a bitch sent me to Oregon  
after that God-damned ship!"  
  
Frohike stepped forward. "Mulder, trust me, trust us, she's doesn't know  
anything about that."  
  
"Then she knows where he is." Mulder stabbed at them with the gun.  
  
Byers continued, "No she doesn't, Mulder, she wasn't with Krycek,"  
  
"She was with me," Langly said, stepping forward, as he reached for Mulder's  
wrist. "We broke into the apartment to get access to the files Camby gave to  
Minot. Krycek showed up while we were there." He pressed his thumb against  
Mulder's hand, hard, and Mulder stepped back, shaking his head, but he  
released the gun.  
  
"Maybe you should tell me what's going on," he said finally.  
  
"Gladly," Byers stated. He looked to the left, looked to the right, and  
then, moving as one, the Lone Gunmen hurled themselves at the luckless  
Mulder.  
  
XXX  
  
  
It wasn't even close. The Lone Gunmen were determined, and Mulder was on  
medical leave for some damn good reasons. He glared at them from his chair.  
With his hands cuffed to the back of the chair and his feet tied to the  
legs, all he could do was glare.  
  
"What the hell do you three stooges hope to accomplish?" he demanded.  
  
Byers moved forward. "Look, Mulder, we're working on something big here,  
with Mel's help."  
  
Frohike sat in a nearby chair, elbows on his knees. "Mel gave us the  
information that Camby was having an affair with Minot but we suspected  
something much larger. We decided to use her to get into Minot's little  
lovenest."  
  
"Langly and Mel entered the apartment without difficulty and located Minot's  
personal computer," Byers said.  
  
"We moved the files on onto a disc and we were about to leave when Minot  
showed up. Her trip to New York must have been bogus." Langly was across the  
room, examining the bruising along Mel's throat. "Ratboy was right on her  
tail, if you'll excuse the expression."  
  
"Going by the name of Pike," Frohike said. "Langly and Mel hid in the  
closet. Krycek, um, he..." Frohike's voice puttered out.  
  
Byers completed the narrative: "He had intercourse with Minot and then shot  
her with a silencer, removed the IDE drive, and left."  
  
"The one-hand wonder," Mulder muttered, giving his handcuffs a rattling tug.  
  
"Hot monkey sex," Frohike commented, hiding a lecherous grin.  
  
"Yeah, well, I could done without it," Langly declared, moving away from  
Mel. "I didn't get a good look at Pike until he cut the cables on the CPU.  
That's when I saw his face. After that, Ratboy must have gone directly to  
Mel's place to rig the explosives."  
  
"How did you know Krycek would put a hit on Mel?" Mulder questioned.  
  
"Minot's love nest was leased under Mel's name. That's how she happened to  
have a key," Langly explained. "You know how Krycek likes to tidy up loose  
ends."  
  
"The Consortium's clean-up man," Mulder said.  
  
"I am not a loose end," Mel muttered, standing up and pacing her side of the  
room.  
  
Langly watched her. "Trust me, baby, that's exactly what you are."  
  
Mulder's face took on a crafty look. "Krycek's getting sloppy," he said.  
"Bet you didn't know that rat's shed."  
  
The three men waited for him to elucidate.  
  
"Hair. Scully collected some hairs from the scene that didn't  
match with Minot's," he explained.  
  
"The wig," Frohike stated.  
  
"He must like that wig. He's used it before," Mulder said.  
  
"What else did Scully learn?" Byers asked.  
  
"She had a fiber match, and the placement of the bullet wounds weren't from  
a gun fired by a woman. The shooter was much taller," Mulder  
looked at Mel, "taller than her anyway."  
  
"Comrade Alex doesn't believe in safe sex," Mulder said.  
  
"All with one hand," Frohike marveled.  
  
"What do you use, Frohike, two hands and a foot?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Dammit, Mulder, if you knew Minot had sex before she died, you knew it  
wasn't Mel," Langly said accusingly.  
  
"Yeah, I knew. She's too short, anyway. Scully knew that from the angle of  
the bullet wounds," Mulder answered blandly.  
  
"Then you're just another gun-happy pig," Langly said. He was quivering with  
rage and after a second of self-control he gave Mulder's chair a kick.  
  
"Bite me, you son of a bitch," Mulder said, all but spitting the words. "She  
was there, Langly, and I knew that too."  
  
"She was there," Byers agreed, giving Langly a warning look.  
  
"And our van was there," Frohike said. "You recognized the description."  
  
"You didn't think I came over for the scintillating conversation," Mulder  
said sarcastically.  
  
"You thought we were working with Krycek?" Langly asked angrily.  
  
Mulder directed his answer to Byers and Frohike.  
  
"Even without a tag number, your shitbucket's easy to trace. I'm not the  
last agent who's going to ask you about it."  
  
Frohike and Byers nodded at each other, but Langly still looked ready to  
pounce. Mel moved in, gently urging him to the side.  
  
"He hurt you too, didn't he?" she asked Mulder, leaning over him to look in  
his eyes. "The man who killed Gabrielle."  
  
Mulder shifted awkwardly and looked at his lap. He didn't answer.  
  
XXX  
  
Dana Scully was always a professional. Even with a belly the size of a house  
and wearing maternity underwear, she displayed a sense of dignity no one  
could match.  
  
She walked slowly and carefully down a third floor hall of the Hoover  
building toward the elevators. Her meeting with Doggett and Skinner had gone  
well, despite the tension in the air. She vowed anew that the next time she  
saw Alex Krycek, nothing would save him. It would forever be a thorn in her  
side that she had shot the wrong man.  
  
She pressed the button for the basement as she punched speed dial on her  
cell phone. She'd tried calling him before the meeting, first at her  
apartment, then at his, but he hadn't answered.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Mulder, it's me. I just got out of my meeting with Skinner." Scully  
absently rubbed her lower back, anticipating the massage Mulder had promised  
for the evening.  
  
"How'd it go?"  
  
"Difficult. Agent Doggett has a hard time understanding why we've never been  
able to put Krycek behind bars."  
  
"I bet that tightened Skinner's ass," Mulder mumbled.  
  
The doors opened and Scully started the march down to their office. "He  
wasn't pleased. It was hard for him, considering the circumstances. No man  
likes to admit he was being used." She was listening hard to try to figure  
out his location, but she heard nothing in the background.  
  
"Where are you, Mulder? Did you go to the store?" Scully asked, unlocking  
the door.  
  
"Uh, not yet," he said carelessly. "I'm at the Lone Gunmen's, just, you  
know, hangin' out."  
  
Scully paused. "Really?"  
  
She didn't like that. They had a history of bad things happening when they  
got together, like a bunch of frat boys with a keg.  
  
"Yeah, um, you find out any more about the investigation?"  
  
She definitely didn't like that. "Mulder, maybe I should come over there."  
  
"No, um, Scully, I'm kind of tied up right now." His voice took on a strange  
quality, like a pubescent boy's.  
  
"Okay, Mulder, I know you were upset about the fiber match, but I'm warning  
you, if you so much as breathe a word of this investigation..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, okay, Scully." The line went dead and Scully let out a long  
sigh. She really didn't feel like driving to Takoma Park, and she needed to  
pee. Again.  
  
XXX  
  
It was Byers who went out for food, returning with a variety of snacks.  
Anything to keep Mulder quiet. The television was tuned to the Knicks  
pre-game show and Mulder was as absorbed as he could be. He didn't like  
being trussed up like a turkey, not with Krycek so close. Mel, who had come  
to see him as a fellow victim, was feeding him bite-sized Milky Ways.  
  
The guys were still trying to break the code when Mulder's phone rang again.  
If it was Scully, it'd be the third call in an hour. Even Mulder, who was  
quite content despite the bindings, was annoyed with Scully's nagging wife  
act. Maybe he'd stay at his apartment tonight.  
  
Frohike held the phone to his ear.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Get Scully off my back."  
  
Mulder stiffened and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "What do you  
want?"  
  
Krycek laughed. "I'd like to have what your friends stole off my hard drive,  
but I'll settle for you calling off your bitch."  
  
"Fuck you, Krycek," Mulder said dangerously. This caught the attention of  
the others and they moved around the tables to listen. "You screwed up big  
time, dickhead. They found your spunk all over her."  
  
Mel blanched at the crude words, but she remained silent. She was surprised  
when Langly moved next to her and took her hand.  
  
"They can run all the DNA tests they like, Mulder, they won't find me."  
Krycek's voice was calm.  
  
"Then why worry about Scully? Is it because she has your number and you know  
it?"  
  
"I see you have Huey, Dewey, and Louie doing your dirty work again. Which  
one's the father, Mulder?""  
  
"Shut up, this is between you and me. When I find you, you can kiss your  
testicles goodbye. Literally." Mulder was yelling, his face ferocious.  
  
"Just call her off, Mulder and then you'll have nothing to worry about." The  
call disconnected.  
  
Mulder slammed his cuffed hands against the chair and howled his rage.  
Frohike pressed END and set the phone next to the counter.  
  
They were all silent. Finally, Mulder spoke. "He's so full of shit. Get me  
out of these handcuffs."  
  
"Buddy," Frohike said, "we can't, not only because of Mel, but because  
you're in no condition to be storming out there looking for a needle in a  
haystack."  
  
Mulder glared at him, and Byers spoke up. "Mulder, we know you're still on  
medical leave. You can't work this case."  
  
"Damn it, get me out of these cuffs!"  
  
They exchanged glances. Finally Frohike said, "Byers, call Scully. Have her  
come here--"  
  
Mulder hung his head. "Look, I need to take a piss, okay? You got little  
Miss Moppet feeding me candy and sodas. I need to go."  
  
They looked at him, skeptical. "I mean it," Mulder warned.  
  
Byers and Frohike moved away to where Langly was standing next to Mel.  
"Hobble him," said Byers. "We can't risk letting him get free."  
  
"No, we could get him a cup," suggested Langly, glancing over Byers's  
shoulder to where Mulder sat, his gaze fixed on the Ramones poster  
beside him.  
  
"Don't be gross, Langly," said Frohike, and he turned, stroking his chin  
with his fingertips.  
  
Mulder finally gave in. He'd had half a plan to escape, but he really did  
need to go. "God damn amateurs! Just cuff me to a pipe!"  
  
They all looked at him in wonder. "Yeah, okay," Frohike said. Byers cut  
through the cords on Mulder's feet. Together they dragged the chair into  
the bathroom. Byers carefully uncuffed one hand.  
  
Frohike came around Mulder with Esther Nairn's old stun gun. "Hey, buddy,  
remember this?" he said shaking the gun with a snicker. "Ah,  
Mulder.... you're right-handed, right?" Frohike efficiently cuffed Mulder to  
a bare pipe running vertically along the wall near the toilet.  
  
Byers stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door halfway for modesty's  
sake, and Langly stood next to him, waiting. And waiting. They could hear  
the men inside.  
  
"You gonna start?" Frohike asked.  
  
"Yeah, give me a sec, okay?"  
  
The distinctive sound of urine hitting the toilet satisfied the men and they  
relaxed. Frohike joked, "Nice stream, Mulder."  
  
"Wanna see if I can hit the ceiling light?"  
  
Mel was appalled by their cavalier attitude toward Krycek's phone call. She  
didn't understand how men so attuned to the slightest danger could blow off  
the threats so quickly. Obviously they were all in danger. She took  
advantage of their interest in the FBI agent's pressing problem. Gathering  
her bag, she moved slowly around the tables. She made a casual stop by the  
CPU that Byers had been using, removed the disc and slipped it in her bag.  
  
Forcing herself to move quietly, as if without purpose, she drifted towards  
the door. It took a moment to get all the locks undone, but finally she  
stepped out of the office.  
  
She knew from watching Langly drive that their warehouse office was close to  
Carroll Street, and at Carroll and Cedar was the Metro station.  
She walked quickly and paid careful attention to street signs, though she  
had to squint to see them, having removed her glasses when she  
left their building.  
  
The heat was unbelievable and she was relieved when she made it within sight  
of the station. As she purchased her ticket, her eyes darted  
around the platform watching to see if anyone was following. Finally, she  
boarded the Red Line and quickly took a seat. Her plan was to ride the Red  
until Fort Totten and then change trains to the Petworth Station. She made  
herself as comfortable as possible, trying to ignore any curious looks from  
other passengers.  
  
She did not feel any better about this decision than her last, but she was  
afraid that staying with Langly would get him killed.  
  
XXX  
  
Langly was the first to notice she was gone. As he finished snapping the  
cuffs closed around Mulder's wrists, he looked up, scanning the room.  
  
"Shit!" he exclaimed.  
  
Byers turned toward him. "What?"  
  
"She's gone." Langly called, grabbing the keys as he hurried out the door.  
  
Mulder looked at the two remaining Gunmen. "I told you what would happen if  
you didn't get him fixed."  
  
Frohike stuffed a Milky Way into Mulder's mouth.  
  
Langly clattered down the metal stairway, furiously thinking of where Mel  
would have gone. Finally he decided that if she was a smart as he thought  
she was, she'd be taking the Metro. He gunned the van in the direction of  
next station.  
  
XXX  
  
Scully didn't see the Volkswagen van leaving when she pulled into the meager  
parking lot of the Gunmen's warehouse.  
  
She was in a foul mood. She had devoured an entire package of peanut butter  
crackers on the drive over, and then had to drink most of her bottled water.  
Now she needed the bathroom. That, and she was still hungry.  
  
She creaked her way up then down the metal staircase carefully. The baby  
didn't seem to like stair climbing. It rolled forward and delivered a hard  
kick to her diaphragm just as she reached the landing, knocking the wind  
from her. Scully bowed over and waited, chanting to herself, "Six more  
weeks, six more weeks..."  
  
XXX  
  
Frohike heard someone making a hell of a racket on the stairs, and he moved  
to the door for a look. Byers nodded at him and said, "Maybe it's  
Langly."  
  
Frohike moved to the monitor beside the door. "Jesus! It's Scully!"  
  
Both men scampered over to Mulder, who was panicking as well. "Let me go,  
dammit. If she sees me like this, she's gonna kick all our asses!" he yelled  
at them.  
  
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed with something close to terror, they assessed  
their situation. Then, without a word, Frohike grabbed one of the  
foam balls that Langly couldn't juggle. Byers reached for a roll of  
electrical tape.  
  
They ignored Mulder's pleas. Frohike pushed the foam ball into Mulder's  
forever open mouth and Byers wound black electrical tape around and around  
his head. Then, working as one, they tipped Mulder back in his chair and  
dragged him into the other room.  
  
Byers said as they entered, "Do you think he can breathe like this?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Look at his nose." Frohike hurried off to answer the door.  
  
XXX  
  
Langly had lived in Takoma Park for years. He knew the Metro schedule like  
the back of his hand and he was pretty sure he could beat the train. The  
station was surprisingly crowded for this time of day and Langly roamed the  
platform, looking and looking for any sign of Mel's short bob of black hair.  
It was just his luck to arrive right as the train arrived. He boarded the  
train, leaping in just as the alarm sounded and the doors closed.  
  
The train started with a lurch and Langly began to make his way toward the  
rear. When he reached the last car without finding her, he started to panic  
that she hadn't taken the Metro at all, or if she had, she'd get off at the  
next stop before he could find her. He started back the way he came, and as  
the stop for Petworth was called out, he spotted her in the car ahead,  
huddled in the plastic seat with her eyes closed.  
  
She was only a few feet away in the next car, but when he reached for the  
door handle he couldn't turn it. He wondered if Mel had seen him pass by and  
found a way to lock the door after him. He pulled harder but the door was  
locked or jammed. With a sound of disgust he turned away, riding it out to  
the next stop. At Petworth, he followed at a distance and saw her switch to  
the Green Line. Once she was on the train, he'd have her.  
  
He did not see another figure, a man in black, following him.  
  
XXX  
  
Frohike opened the door, startling Scully, and he closed it swiftly behind  
him, leaning back against it. "Hey, Scully."  
  
She looked at the door and then at Frohike. "Afternoon."  
  
He didn't answer, and they did some kind of weird staring game until finally  
Scully broke the silence. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Um, yeah, well, um, Byers has, um, he's got a girl in there." Frohike could  
kick himself for such a pathetic excuse.  
  
Scully's eyebrow went north. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Mulder left, he ah, went with Langly, for some, beer and, ah, Chinese  
food."  
  
Scully looked again at the door. She wasn't really needing Mulder right now,  
what she needed was the bathroom. "Okay. Do you think Byers would mind if I  
came inside for a second?"  
  
Frohike stood still for a long moment before giving in with a nervous smile.  
"Yeah, you got me. There's no chick. Come on in." He swung the door wide  
open and followed her inside.  
  
Scully looked around. The Gunmen, for all their loyalty to her, still gave  
her the creeps. They were just so off the wall. She liked predictable  
people, which didn't explain at all why she stayed with Mulder.  
  
She moved through the narrow room, moving aside a stool and a cable. She  
spied some Milky Way wrappers on the counter as she passed and was instantly  
jealous of anyone who'd eaten in the last fifteen minutes. She snagged a  
chocolate and gestured with her head toward the bathroom. "May I?"  
  
"Sure, sure, go ahead," Byers said, suddenly sneaking up behind her. Scully  
gave him an odd look. His face was red and for a minute she  
wondered if he really did have a girl there somewhere. She shrugged and  
disappeared into the restroom.  
  
XXX  
  
Mel boarded the Green Line train and waited for it to move. She tried not to  
let her surprise show when Langly entered the car and sat beside her.  
  
"I'll give you credit for trying, but don't do that again," he said. He  
tilted his head from one side to another and she heard his neck pop and  
settle  
into place. He looked tired.  
  
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," she whispered huskily.  
  
"Then why take the disc?" he asked, leaning forward so that his head fell  
into his hands. His blond hair slipped forward, further hiding his face.  
  
"Because, maybe, if the Krycek guy shows up, I can bargain with it." The  
words sounded stupid once spoken, and Mel made a face.  
  
"Yeah, just like he gave Gabrielle a break?"  
  
Langly peeked out his fingers at Mel's face. It was tight with worry and  
fatigue.  
  
He straightened and put his arm around her. The train started with a lurch  
and she fell further into his embrace. "It'll be okay," he whispered into  
her soft hair.  
  
XXX  
  
Scully waited patiently for fifteen minutes, eating three Milky Ways, and  
then, with a grunt, she settled herself on the Gunmen's uncomfortable sofa.  
  
The guys were nonchalant, talking on and on about the investigation of  
Minot's murder. They even started a conversation about the heat. She wasn't  
fooled. They were pretending that they were only discussing current events,  
as they talked across their monitors, but she was nonplused. She knew Mulder  
had been running his mouth. They probably already knew that the attacker was  
a non-secretor and had left finger bruises on one side of the victim's  
thigh.  
  
She ignored them until Frohike mentioned the name on the apartment lease.  
Then she got to thinking, as she unwrapped another Milky Way,  
how was Kempka able to afford an apartment like that? Scully sat and sat and  
sat, sinking into the miserable sofa like a mammoth in a tarpit.  
When she suddenly tried to lurch up off the sofa, she fell back with a huff.  
  
Finally Byers noticed her, and he quickly came to her rescue. "Here, Agent  
Scully." He gave her a hand and she finally stood.  
  
"Tell Mulder I'll see him later," she said as she slyly pocketed another  
candy. "I've got to go check something out."  
  
The men looked at each other, and Byers shrugged and nodded, but Frohike  
couldn't resist questioning her.  
  
"Anything we can help you with?" he asked.  
  
Scully looked at them both and wished the baby would stop squirming for a  
moment. It wasn't good for her concentration. "Mulder told you about the  
Minot case, didn't he?" she asked with a sigh of resignation.  
  
They exchanged another long look before Byers replied, "He mentioned  
something about it, yes."  
  
Which meant he'd spilled his guts. "I'm going back to the city," Scully  
said, "If Kempka couldn't afford the apartment, then I want to know who was  
paying the bills."  
  
Frohike moved quickly behind her, almost pushing her. "Mind if we tag  
along?"  
  
Scully looked over her shoulder at both men, who were downright eager to  
leave. "Well..."  
  
"I'll drive," Byers volunteered, and with that Scully gave in, turning her  
palms up. Who wanted to drive in five o'clock traffic with a baby  
alternately kicking steering wheel and ribs?  
  
XXX  
  
Closer to the city the Saturday crowd thinned when Langly and Mel changed  
trains back to Takoma Park. Langly decided not to sit, so he waited next to  
the partition by the doors. Mel gave him a confused look. "Sit down," she  
said. The car was empty but for one man asleep in the back.  
  
"No, you go ahead," he stated.  
  
Mel did not, and when the train jolted forward she had to grasp the metal  
pole to keep from falling. She leaned her cheek against the pole.  
  
Langly watched her for a long moment. "Come here," he said.  
  
Mel turned to him. He was leaning against the partition, his legs spread  
wide, feet firmly planted on the floor. She moved toward him. Langly grasped  
her shoulders and turned her around, pulling her back against him.  
  
His arms encircled her and Mel surprised herself by relaxing against his  
chest. This was the safest she'd felt in ages, even before her discovery of  
Camby and Minot.  
  
They did not say anything, listening to the whir and clack of the tracks.  
Mel moved her hand down to his hand which was resting low against her belly,  
entwining her fingers with his.  
  
"Well isn't this cozy." Krycek suddenly said behind them.  
  
XXX  
  
Scully glared at Byers. His driving was making her crazy. He drove at the  
speed limit and always signaled his turns.  
  
"Where are we going?" Byers finally asked, glancing over at her.  
  
"Kempka's name was on that lease, but I want to confirm that she's the one  
who made the arrangements. It's an expensive area for a woman her tax  
bracket." Scully peered up at the rearview mirror. Frohike was sprawled in  
the backseat taking a nap, his head resting on her briefcase.  
  
"That's an excellent point, something we've been tossing around," Byers  
replied.  
  
"What else have you been tossing around?" Scully unscrewed the cap of her  
water bottle.  
  
"You want to hear our theory?"  
  
"Please," she said, thinking this would be fine entertainment.  
  
Byers took a deep breath. "We believe Minot was murdered as a result of her  
involvement with Special Agent Camby."  
  
Scully choked on her water. "What?"  
  
"She and Camby were involved and she was probably his middleman. She  
received his information and passed it along to a buyer."  
  
"I always thought you were the normal one," Scully said. "Did Mulder have a  
hand in this ridiculous confabulation?"  
  
Byers shot her an impatient look. "Look at the facts. You've got an  
apartment leased in the assistant's name, a love-nest, so to speak, in  
downtown DC. " He signaled, looked back over his shoulder, and made a  
right-hand turn. "Minot is murdered the day after Camby is arrested and her  
hard-drive is stolen."  
  
"This wouldn't be the first time Krycek trafficked in classified  
information. Jesus." Scully rested her head against the window.  
  
Byers was silent, letting Scully assess the information. Finally she sat  
forward, put the cap back on her empty water bottle, then turned and tossed  
it at Frohike, hitting him in the chest. He sat up with a startled "chuff,"  
looked around him, and asked, "What's up?"  
  
"Let me have my briefcase. I think I left today's paper in there."  
  
Frohike handed over the case and Scully set it between Byers and herself and  
clicked it open.  
  
She looked at the front page. Below the fold was a picture of Gordon Camby  
being arrested. "I can use this."  
  
XXX  
  
The train rocked side to side, but Langly and Mel stood very still.  
  
"Have a seat." The hand he kept hidden in his pocket made Krycek's  
suggestion into an order. The trio moved up a few rows and then sat, Mel  
and Langly together and Krycek across the aisle.  
  
"You two have been a right pain in the ass," Krycek observed, "but all  
that's about to change. Give me the disc."  
  
Langly leaned forward. "Why should we? You'll just kill us too, like you did  
Minot." He spoke with his usual flippant tone. Only a little gulp at the end  
betrayed his fear.  
  
Alex smiled coldly. "Minot knew a hell of a lot more than you. Give me the  
disc, Mel."  
  
She looked at Langly as if she were asking his forgiveness, and then she  
reached into her purse and brought out the CD. Slowly she began to hand it  
over to Krycek, but as he reached for it, the train picked up speed.  
Startled, Mel lost her hold and dropped the disc. It landed on edge and  
began to roll down the grooved flooring. Mel and Langly lunged for it, but  
Krycek stopped them.  
  
"Don't," he commanded, his hidden hand reinforcing his words. "Mel, go get  
it."  
  
Mel stood slowly and walked up the aisle. The CD lay on its side, and she  
bent down to pick it up.  
  
Krycek had his attention on Mel and Langly saw an opportunity. Stepping out  
into the aisle and grasping the backs of the seats, he swung both legs up  
suddenly, plowing his feet hard into Krycek's side. Krycek went down in a  
tangle and Langly leaped over him, headed for Mel. "Run, Mel!"  
  
Krycek shot his good hand out and grasped Langly's ankle, sending him  
crashing to the floor.  
  
Langly's chin cracked onto the floor, rattling his teeth and sending a sharp  
pain through his head. He shook it to clear the pain.  
  
Langly flipped onto his back and smashed his other foot into Krycek's face.  
He heard a crunch that turned his stomach, but he kicked again, until Krycek  
released his ankle and rolled for cover. Langly pulled himself up, gritted  
his teeth, and stomped on Krycek's hand as hard as his high-tops would  
allow. He ground his heel into Krycek's fingers, doing his best to crush  
them.  
  
"Too bad, dude, you don't have a spare," Langly said as Krycek roared in  
pain. Langly rose and raced down the passage, grabbing Mel's arm  
when he caught up to her.  
  
"Run!" Langly yelled again, but she stood as if she were stunned. "Come on,"  
he urged her, but when he tried to pull her along, she dropped the CD again.  
It skittered beneath the seats, breaking her paralysis, and she tried to  
dive for it, but Langly was pushing her ahead with all his might.  
  
Even when Langly had shoved her through into the next car, she resisted.  
  
"The disc, Richard! He'll get it," she cried.  
  
"Leave it," Langly yelled, pushing them through the car, racing past the  
confused passengers. He looked back to find Krycek pushing his way through  
the door.  
  
Langly shoved Mel through the next car, hitting the lock and grasped for the  
latch on the door. "Give me your cell phone," he demanded, wiping blood from  
his chin with the back of his hand.  
  
Mel fished it out of her bag and gave it to him with shaking fingers. She  
stared at Krycek bearing down on them, his shoulder humped up and his  
prosthesis dangling at an awkward angle.  
  
Langly took the cell phone, bit the end of the antenna, and pulled it out  
with his teeth. He then broke off the antenna and shoved the end into the  
lock, snapping it off. Even if Krycek found the conductor, they wouldn't be  
able to open the door. With a last glance at Krycek's enraged face as he  
approached, now only a few feet away, Langly shot him the finger.  
  
XXX  
  
Mulder waited. It was the final quarter and the Knicks were behind by 8.  
  
XXX  
  
Langly and Mel made their way to the head car before he finally stopped and  
flopped down into a seat. Mel sat down beside him, both of them  
panting for breath.  
  
"Mel, I need you to braid my hair," Langly stated.  
  
"What?" she asked in confusion, but he only turned his back to her. She  
raised her hands and began separating his hair into sections.  
  
"We have to get low-key fast. He can still spot us on the platform. Make it  
tight."  
  
Mel did the best she could and when she was done, she didn't know how to  
secure the braid. Langly reached back and tucked it down into his collar.  
  
He turned to Mel and handed her his glasses. "Put these away."  
  
She nodded and they stared at each other for a long moment. Suddenly she  
pushed herself against him, her lips pressed firmly against his own. Langly  
was surprised but he parted his lips, receiving a brief taste of her before  
she pulled away. He smiled sheepishly. It hurt.  
  
There was a man a few seats up, reading the Post. Langly stood and  
approached him, digging into his pocket. "Ten bucks for your Orioles hat."  
  
The man put down the paper. "What?"  
  
Langly showed him the money. "I said ten bucks for your hat."  
  
"Get lost," the man said, going back to his paper.  
  
"Twenty?" Langly insisted.  
  
He had the man's attention. "Thirty."  
  
"Twenty-five."  
  
"Thirty."  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
When they emerged on the platform, Langly hardly looked himself.  
  
He held Mel's hand firmly as they made their way to the escalator at a fast  
walk.  
  
They broke out of the terminal and raced through the exit. She was  
unprepared as Langly jerked her to a stop and ducked behind a concrete  
wall, using it as a temporary barrier. He peered around it, taking his time,  
inch by inch. He did not see Krycek anywhere.  
  
Langly glanced sideways at Mel. "I hope we lost him, but I'm not sure."  
  
She nodded.  
  
Finally he decided to risk it. They still had to get to the van. "Okay, it's  
do or die."  
  
XXX  
  
"You wait here," Scully ordered and pulled herself up out of the car. She  
tucked a file and the newspaper beneath her arm.  
  
Parker Winston was the landlord of Kempka's apartment. He and his mother  
lived in a basement apartment in the corner building, and the  
notorious love-nest was next door and upstairs. Winston's mother enjoyed the  
thrill of being part of a major news story, but she also knew they  
couldn't re-rent the apartment until the crime scene tape came down.  
  
The cobbled walkway up to Winston's house cut across the postage-stamp-sized  
front yard, and Scully found herself stepping over water hose and rake  
before lurching up the steps to the front door. She hated this ungainly  
feeling of not knowing what your body was going to do next or whether you  
could control it.  
  
An older woman, probably the mother, answered the door, and Scully flashed  
her badge. "Excuse me, is Parker Winston home?"  
  
"No," said the woman, dressed in a faded blue housedress. She looked at  
Scully's large belly, and then at her ID. "He's playing softball."  
  
"I see. Do you know when he might be home?" Scully put the badge away.  
  
"You have more questions?"  
  
"Sorry?" Scully asked.  
  
"There was a man with a badge here yesterday, asking questions too." The  
woman shuffled her slippered feet. "I don't think he was a real  
policeman."  
  
"I see." Scully paused for a moment. "Could you describe this man?"  
  
"Oh, he was nasty. " The woman opened her screen door wider. "You want to  
come inside?"  
  
Scully nodded; the old woman needed to get off her feet. Once inside, Scully  
remained standing, waiting for the woman to settle back into her recliner.  
"I didn't like the look of him. He spoke with Parker in the yard." She  
carefully arranged a colorful afghan over her legs. "There was something  
wrong with his arm."  
  
Krycek, Scully thought, and thanked her.  
  
"Winston's supposed to be back soon," the woman said as Scully left.  
  
When she reached the car, a red Saturn pulled into the driveway. Scully  
straightened and waited.  
  
Winston got out of the car, his dark eyes sizing Scully up. "You were here  
this morning, poking at that dead girl's body."  
  
"Sir," Scully said, again raising her badge, "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully  
with the FBI. Do you have a moment for a few questions?"  
  
"Yeah." Winston kicked at a clump of grass. Short and prematurely bald, he  
was still dressed in a grimy blue softball uniform.  
  
"I wanted to clarify that Melanie Kempka was the woman who rented the  
apartment." She made the statement sound like a question and handed the  
press photo of Kempka to Winston.  
  
"Nah, this is the lady who got all pissed off." He handed the photo back,  
pulled off his cap and smoothed his remaining hair. "Hot isn't it?"  
  
XXX  
  
The office was empty when Mel and Langly got back.  
  
"Your friends must have untied that poor man," Mel said. "Thank goodness."  
  
"But his car is still here," Langly said, clearly perplexed. "I'll check the  
back."  
  
They found Mulder in the other room. There was no mistaking his fury, even  
with his mouth covered. Mel gingerly removed the electrical tape,  
unwinding it as carefully as she could.  
  
Mulder spat out the foam ball with a "plagh!"  
  
"I'll kill them!" he exploded. "Now get these cuffs off me!"  
  
"Bummer," Langly said, unimpressed. "What happened?"  
  
Mulder gratefully drank from the cup of water Mel held for him. "Scully came  
and they left with her. I don't know where they went."  
  
Langly nodded. "So did the Knicks win?"  
  
XXX  
  
Scully slammed the car door. "Let's go," she said, already putting her cell  
phone to her ear.  
  
Byers started the car and he and Frohike listening to her one-sided  
conversation with Skinner.  
  
They were already on the expressway when she clicked off the phone. She  
turned to them and explained, "Kempka has not been using the  
apartment. Winston identified Camby and Minot, said they met on a regular  
basis."  
  
"I bet he also said it was none of his business," Frohike interjected from  
the back.  
  
"Thank God for nosy neighbors." Scully put the file and paper away in her  
briefcase. "Kempka only showed up once, angry, because apparently  
she didn't know the apartment was leased in her name. Minot paid all the  
bills. Minot also had quite a few gentlemen callers at the place. rycek  
may not have been the only buyer."  
  
"Skinner is withdrawing the APB on Kempka. I think she must have holed up  
somewhere when her house was burned. It's too bad about that."  
They all remained quiet.  
  
Finally, Byers broke the silence. "Scully, we have something more to tell  
you."  
  
XXX  
  
"What happened to you?" Mulder asked.  
  
Mel had seated Langly in another chair. He had removed his blood-splattered  
shirt and his left shoulder was bruised from his fall. Mel cleaned his  
bloody chin with a washcloth and peroxide.  
  
"Tangoed with your one-armed friend," Langly managed to say, grimacing from  
the sharp pain.  
  
Mulder sat back in a huff. He was pleased that Langly had gotten away but  
irked that he had evidently won the fight. Stranger things had happened.  
  
Mel smoothed his hair. She was angry with herself for leaving the Gunmen's  
office. Regardless that she had been trying to protect them, she had put  
them both in more danger.  
  
Mel leaned down to look closely at the cut before pouring the peroxide along  
it. Langly pulled sharply away from her. "Don't, " she whispered before  
patting the injury dry.  
  
She started to rise when Langly reached up with one hand to grasp the back  
of her neck, pulling her mouth down to his own. He kissed her  
thoroughly, no surprises this time.  
  
"Don't mind me." Mulder muttered.  
  
XXX  
  
The Gunmen gathered around trading insults and arguing the events of the  
past few hours. Langly had finally broken the encryption. The  
disc contained a list of malfunctioning weather buoys located in the  
Atlantic Ocean. Langly had discovered twelve-character alphanumeric strings  
and gotten a match. He hacked into the NOA to double-check the data. They  
speculated why the information was so valuable.  
  
"The ID numbers are right, " Langly insisted punching his finger toward the  
monitor, "but what's reported here and what's on the file are  
different."  
  
"Why would the NOA alter weather information?" Frohike asked.  
  
Byers compared the data. "This is information recorded by NOA, " he pointed  
to the other monitor, "and this is what was released. Someone is  
altering the records and posting the buoys as non-operational."  
  
"So, it's anyone's guess?" Langly looked disgusted with the data. Why would  
someone buy this sort of information, much less kill for it?  
  
"We'll look into this. Copy the file and give the original back to Agent  
Scully." Byers decided.  
  
Frohike made a big show of giving the disc to Scully as evidence. She took  
it suspiciously, snapping it into the Radiohead case.  
  
Scully was bittersweet about the case. She'd stayed outside to take a call  
from Doggett. He'd been angry. A man fitting Krycek's description had been  
detained at National. When Doggett arrived to bring him in, the prisoner was  
gone and the two guards were unconscious in the locked room.  
  
Scully smiled briefly at Mel, who had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, and  
made her way to the bathroom. She paused as she passed an open  
door.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
Mulder was still tied and cuffed. He heard her voice and blanched. "Scully?"  
  
She approached him from behind and rubbed his shoulders, then smoothed back  
his hair. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Scully," he whined, "I can explain."  
  
"Yes." She leaned down to lightly kiss his forehead, and he rubbed his head  
against her belly and sighed. The baby kicked at him and Mulder  
pulled away sharply.  
  
"I'll be right back," Scully said, continuing on to the bathroom. She'd have  
to thank Frohike for keeping Mulder safe. She knew he wouldn't have kept  
himself out of trouble if he'd been left alone to investigate.  
  
She paused before leaving the room. "Did you go to the store yet?"  
  
"Uh, no."  
  
"Scully, Scully," Mulder called, realizing she'd left the room. Where was  
she going? Surely she would release him?  
  
"Scully!"  
  
XXX  
  
Mel was hanging blue curtains when a loud sudden knock startled her.  
  
Checking through the peephole, she saw it was Langly. She opened the lock to  
find him lounging against the door frame.  
  
"We were picked up by the Associated Press."  
  
He handed her a newspaper, folded to display an article under a boldface  
headline: "Agent and Mystery Woman--The Selling of US Secrets." Mel nodded  
and handed the paper back as Langly pushed past her into the apartment.  
  
"I saw it this morning. Congratulations, Richard." she said.  
  
"Byers is thrilled. We all are," he commented. "Hey, I like what you did  
with the place!"  
  
"Thanks. And thanks for letting me stay here until the insurance comes  
through," Mel said.  
  
He nodded at the Ramones poster. "You could have taken that down. We have  
one at the office."  
  
Mel smiled and turned to glance at it. "I couldn't. It has memories."  
  
Langly snorted. "Pretty bad ones."  
  
Mel bent to tie her shoe. "Not at all. I look at it as an adventure. After  
all, we had a happy ending, didn't we?"  
  
"Maybe. At least you didn't lose your job." Langly folded the paper and  
tucked it under one arm. "I was wondering-"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
He pushed his glasses up with his index finger. "You wanna go eat some time?  
Or catch a flick?"  
  
"Like a date?" Mel asked, looking up at him.  
  
Langly shifted his feet. "No, er, just you know, to eat."  
  
"Sure." Mel rose and stood smiling up at him.  
  
"Yeah, good."  
  
They stood there, watching each other.  
  
Finally Langly said, "You hungry?"  
  
Mel rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Wanna go eat?"  
  
"Yeah. Let me get my jacket." The weather had turned cool again.  
  
"Let's go then." He opened the door behind him, holding it so she could walk  
beneath his outstretched arm.  
  
As she locked the door, she asked, "Then this isn't a date?"  
  
"No," he insisted. "It's, you know, two people, eating."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They turned down the corridor.  
  
Langly turned to walk backwards beside her, watching as she pulled on her  
jacket. "Unless you plan to kiss me again."  
  
Mel flipped her hair and snorted, "Not unless this is a date."  
  
"So then maybe it is." Langly turned around with a little jump and walked  
beside her.  
  
"Maybe."   
XXX  
  
END  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
